


Out of the Woodwork

by trash_devil



Category: Fire Emblem Echoes: Mou Hitori no Eiyuu Ou | Fire Emblem Echoes: Shadows of Valentia, Fire Emblem Series
Genre: Forsyth was supposed to be in this too but I cant write him for shit, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Mild Language, anyway Lukas is autistic thanks for coming to my ted talk, but im here to fill in for the lack of python angst, i know theres PWP but is there like... fluff without plot?, im not sure if this has a plot, is "python needs to go to bed" a plot?, theres a lot of lukas angst out there already, two boys struggle with being ace/aro but also Gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-18
Updated: 2018-11-15
Packaged: 2019-08-04 00:56:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16336676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trash_devil/pseuds/trash_devil
Summary: He wanted to say something to him; he just wished he knew the words. But, like everyone else, Python was a poem written in a language he did not understand, and he could not formulate the verse of an answer.





	1. Chapter 1

Python slouched in his seat, absentmindedly tracing the patterns of woodwork on the table with one finger. 

Burl.

The word sprang to mind unbidden. Apparently, his father had managed to force him to learn some things about carpentry after all. The table wasn’t really made from a burl, of course, just painted to look like one. 

He was oddly disappointed in himself for being able to tell. He had tried hard to forget everything that had been beaten into him.

“Python.”

He raised his head and, with a sort of dull shock, he realized that voice belonged to Lukas, not Forsyth. “Huh. Now what are you doin’ in a place like this?”

“What do you mean by that?” Lukas asked as he pulled up a chair next to him.

“Where should I start? You ain’t the type for this place. You’re handsome ‘n smart ‘n disciplined ‘n all that. This place is for people like me.” His mouth twisted into a grin. “People who got no dreams or purpose beyond the bottom of the tankard.”

Lukas fidgeted in his seat. He could never tell how serious Python was. Granted, he had a hard time telling how serious _anyone_ was, but Python was especially difficult.

Strangely enough, though, that was something he liked about the archer. He left everyone else as lost in socialization as Lukas felt. 

Lukas came out of his thoughts to realize that Python was still talking, “Heh. Sir Lukas, the coldest ‘n kindest knight in the lands!”

“... Kindest?” he asked.

“Mm-hm.” He giggled drunkenly. “He’s got the looks, he’s got the personality, ‘a course everyone loves ‘im.” He leaned forward, arms resting on the table. 

He liked the way his compliments were met with tiny changes in Lukas’s expression. Changes that were almost imperceptible, but Python had spent more time than he cared to admit studying them, so he could read the shock and confusion in those minute shifts of muscle. 

Lukas stared at him for a few long seconds. Python smiled back.

He shook his head, “Enough about me, Python. You’re distracting me from the point.”

“There was a point?”

He started fidgeting again, squirming in his seat and wringing his hands. “I… It’s my lack… of emotion. It bothers me.” He took a deep breath, and Python wanted to tease him, _you can certainly feel nervous, can’t you?,_ but he held his tongue. “Python, you were the only person I could think of that is even less passionate than I.”

“And?”

“Why? What makes us like… this?”

“I don’t get what you’re askin’,” Python said, scratching the back of his head.

“What’s wrong with us?”

Python answered him with a blank gaze.  
Then he burst out laughing.

“Oh, Lukas, I was afraid you were gonna ask me something _difficult!”_ He took a moment to recompose himself before continuing, “Nothin’s wrong with us. We’re just different, and that’s it.” There was a moment of hesitation before he blurted out, “Your brother is a damn fool.”

Lukas winced at the mention of him. “He—”

“Ah-ah-ah,” Python cut him off. No going back now. “He. Is. An. Idiot. Doing what he did to sweet lil’ Lukas; I’d gut him myself, but he ain’t worth the effort.” He scooted his chair closer and draped one lanky arm over Lukas’s shoulder. “Listen, don’t worry about what other people feel or what you don’t. Worry ‘bout the things that you do feel, if you have to worry about anything.” He laid his other hand over Lukas’s heart. “And don’t believe you're anything less than a wonderful person.”

“Python…”

He laughed, and suddenly he was ushering Lukas to the door. “Now, stop spendin’ all your free time with a snake.”

“You’re not a—” Lukas began, but he was outside now, and then Python had slipped back into the darkness of the tavern as stealthily as his namesake.

 

 

 

Python stumbled back into camp as the sun peeked its head over the horizon. Lukas had the last watch shift that night, so he was waiting.

“Python comes home when the sun comes up,” he said flatly. 

“G’mornin,” Python slurred. He half-fell into Lukas’s arms as his drunken legs disobeyed him.

Lukas sighed. “You can’t do this every night.”

“Watch me,” he grinned. 

“That wasn’t meant to be a challenge.”

“Too late for that, Lukey-boy.” He reached up. 

Lukas almost recoiled as his calloused fingers brushed his cheek, but he managed to remind himself in time that this was Python, not his brother. He looked down into his bleary blue eyes.

He had never seen Python this close. Close enough to smell the booze on his breath, close enough to see the emptiness in his eyes and the shadows underneath. He wanted to say something to him; he just wished he knew the words. But, like everyone else, Python was a poem written in a language he did not understand, and he could not formulate the verse of an answer.

Before he could think on it longer, Python slithered out of his arms.

Lukas wished he would stay. He still had so many questions.


	2. Chapter 2

Python and Forsyth had a bit of a lover’s spat. Lukas didn’t know the details; he had just heard the yelling. He supposed it was something about Python’s habits. It always was.

At least it presented an opportunity, one which Lukas did not hesitate to take. He fell into step beside Python once Forsyth had stormed off farther down the marching line.

“Hello, Python.”

“Lukas? Again? If I didn’t know any better, I might think you’re tryin’ to court me!” He laughed, but it was abruptly cut off by a wince. “Gods, my head…”

Lukas cleared his throat politely, the same way he had observed Clive do when he had something important to say. “I still have questions.”

“Fire away, hot stuff.”

“How did you know about my brother?”

“Oh. That.” He frowned and shrugged. “Overheard you talkin’ to Alm. Sounded interesting, so… I listened.”

“My, I guess the stories of you being a rumormonger aren’t unfounded after all.”

His frown deepened. “Hey! I don’t tell people things, I just listen.”

Lukas let out a breath that he hadn’t known he was holding. “So are my secrets safe with you?”

“Safe as anything can be with me.” He yawned hugely, and added, “It takes effort to spread gossip. And I hate effort.”

Lukas frowned slightly. It was just the faintest downturn at the corners of his mouth, imperceptible to even himself, but not to Python.

“Somethin’ wrong?” he asked through another yawn.

“You need to get some sleep tonight.”

The next yawn cut off into a hiss of a laugh. “What’d the point of that? Dreams don’t do anythin’ for me.”

“And here I thought you loved sleeping.”

“In-cor-rect.” Python waggled a finger at him. “I like slacking, not sleeping. ‘Course, I enjoy a good nap as much as the next guy, but I could do without the whole dreaming thing.”

Lukas nodded absentmindedly. He inspected Python’s face, trying to read all the little subtleties in his expression. 

It was hard. All those things that other people seemed to just know never revealed themselves to him. And even if he could know those things, even if he were one of the people that could read someone’s feelings as if their souls were written out in their irises, perhaps even then Python would be out of his reach. Python did not work the way other people did.

Neither did Lukas.

So he didn’t feel ashamed when held Python’s gaze for far too long, or when his voice was stilted and unfeeling, or when his answers formed too slowly, or if he couldn’t remember what expression went with which emotion. When he forget all the details of communication that made the other person feel more comfortable.

Python didn’t care about any of that.

It felt safe. Like he could do or say whatever he wanted without judgement. Like he could ask the questions he could never pose to anyone else. “I know you don’t care for dreams while you’re awake, but what’s wrong with the ones while you’re asleep?” Lukas said.

“Same difference, ain’t it? Pretty little pictures taunting me with what I can’t have.” He paused, a look of displeasure so clear that even Lukas could read it flitted across his face, before he slipped back into an easy smile. “Heh. Listen to me ramble on like some melodramatic teenager! ‘M starting to sound like Forsyth. Maybe I do need a nap.”

“You do,” Lukas answered. 

Somehow, they had ended up walking nearly shoulder to shoulder. Python leaned his head lightly against Lukas’s, his eyes falling half-closed. “...Thanks,” he murmured.

 _What for?_ Just another question on his ever-growing list. 

Lukas let it be. Answers would come in time.


	3. Chapter 3

“Can’t I just curl up into a ball and sleep?” Python whined.

No one listened to him. He was Python, after all, wasn’t he always saying things like that?

So he found himself again in the middle of battle, barely able to hold his exhausted body upright.

Lukas watched him carefully. He watched how his hand shook as he strung his bow, how his arrows wobbled through the air instead of firing straight and true, how his head dipped and his eyes fluttered closed whenever there was a lull in the battle.

The others dismissed it as laziness, as Python just being Python, but Lukas had come to know better.

His hand landed on top of the archer’s.

Python looked up at him, letting out a sleepy “Mnn?” in questioning.

“Hold steady,” Lukas said. He straightened out the bow. 

Python felt the heavy armor pressed against his sleeve. The strength of Lukas’s arm next to him was reassuring, and he blinked the bleariness out of his eyes and drew the arrow back.

Lukas guided his hand, making sure it didn’t shake too much as he pulled the bowstring taut. 

“Now?” he murmured into Python’s ear.

He felt the nod against his cheek.

The witch never saw it coming. One second, she was readying a spell, the next an arrow bloomed from the space between her eyes like an absurd flower. She didn’t even get the chance to scream.

Python’s mouth curled into a smile. “Bullseye,” he said.

 

As soon as they set foot back in camp, Python found a good place to settle down for a nap.

It couldn’t have been more than 15 minutes before Clive shook him awake.

“What is it, sir?” he grumbled, one arm over his eyes to block out the sun.

He sighed, “I’m sorry, Python, but there’s no time to rest now.”

Python lowered his arm and raised an eyebrow. He waited for Clive to elaborate.

“Report to the war room. Lukas needs help with strategy, and I know you’re brighter than you act.”

“Sir Clive, is that an insult or a compliment?” he said with a bark of a laugh. “Whatever, I’ll take it.” He struggled to his feet, rubbing furiously at his eyes to try and wake himself up. “Alright, milord, consider it done.”

Apparently, Clive hadn’t thought to tell Lukas he was coming, because he greeted Python with mild surprise.

“I didn’t think you were the type for strategy.”

Python scratched the back of his head. “Eh, yeah. That’s more of Forsyth’s thing. ‘Course, hanging with him means that I’ve had to learn some things.”

“His father was a scribe, yes? I’m certain he had an ample supply of guides.” He tilted his head toward some of the books on the table. “Unfortunately, we do not have such a wide selection.”

Python made a face. “Oh, we’re _reading_? Hah, Clive really should’ve grabbed Forsyth instead.”

“Do you not enjoy books?”

“I, well…” His fingers tapped against the tabletop. “I just… There’s no need for ‘em in either fighting or carpentry.” 

“... You’re illiterate?”

“Guess I won’t be much help to you. Ain’t too late for me to go get Forsyth, y’know.”

Lukas shook his head, “No, stay.”

Python shrugged, then smiled. “If ya want. What can I do for you, stud?”

“I, well… To be perfectly honest, I’ve already come up with a plan. If you could just look over it…?”

He leaned over Lukas, head resting on his shoulder, to look at the map laid out on the table. “Alright, walk me through it.”

Lukas was not used to this sort of contact. Still, it didn’t feel bad. Just strange. He breathed, and found himself strangely relieved that he did not smell alcohol on Python. He pointed out the various symbols on the paper, “Red is for the enemy, blue is for us.”

“Looks good to me.” Python dragged his finger along a line, “One thing, though. See those mountains? If they have any fliers, they could flank us from there. Have some of the archers hang back, and we’ll be able to take care of it.”

“Mm. Python, would you mind staying a little longer?”

“Not at all. Somethin’ on your mind?”

He sat down at the table, pulling up a chair for Python as well. He cleared a space and began to write.

“Uh. Lukas? I can’t read, remember?”

“I know. So I’m going to help you learn.”


	4. Chapter 4

Lukas loved the texture of Python’s hands. He loved the rough spots and the calluses, the scars from his bow string.

Python didn’t mind. He sat back and smiled lazily as Lukas pressed his thumbs and palms and fingers as he traced the lines and joints and little blemishes. He laughed a little at Lukas’s fixation. At how careful the contact was, how deliberate.

He was certain there was some method to it, some pattern he could not comprehend but that Lukas understood perfectly. Here, he would draw a sweeping stroke along the lines of his palm; there, his nails pressed into the softer flesh beneath his thumb.

Python loved the way Lukas touched his hands. He loved the quiet intensity of it, loved how Lukas loved his hands even if they were the knotty, weathered hands of an archer. 

He loved that Lukas’s affection was not _because_ of his scars, like the village girls who wanted to be his savior and take him in and fix him; that it was not _despite_ them, like Forsyth, whom his flaws drove crazy but who loved him anyway.

They did not know if they loved each other. Maybe it did not matter whether they did or not. They knew that they loved what they had, that silent understanding shared between them. There was no need to explain. 

Lukas held Python’s hands. He guided the uncertain stokes of his pen as he taught him the alphabet, he lifted his bow when the archer was too tired to do it himself.

And Python comforted Lukas when he was jolted awake by the nightmares of his past, he answered his questions and allowed him his silences. 

“Lukas?”

He didn’t look up from their joined hands. “Hmm?”

“I…” He paused. Then he smiled, and laughed, “Nevermind. It’s dumb.” 

“I’m sure it wasn’t.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.” The smile melted away. “What are you planning on doing once this is all over?”

Lukas shrugged. “It is only logical to continue on the same path and take up knighthood.”

“Heh, yeah, you do seem the type. Be sure you keep ol’ Python in mind while you’re moving up in the world.”

“What are you planning to do?”

“Sleep, probably.”

“And then?”

Python fell silent again. His fingers curled around Lukas’s. “... I dunno. Maybe I’ll follow you to the ends Valentia!” he laughed.

He was surprised to realize that he meant it.

“I’d be glad for your company.”


End file.
